This Is Real

Chapter Four

The sight of Sherlock Holmes playing tea parties with his daughter was something John has never quite got used to. "Nice tutu," John says, pointedly. "Lovely eye-patch you're sporting there, Olivia."

"Thanks very much," Sherlock said over the rim of his teacup. "Flower, say thank you to John."

"Thank you, Uncle John," Olivia replied absently. She's far more concerned with mixing the exact right amount of milk into her tea. Her father's child, clearly.

"And you're wearing a tutu why, exactly?" John asks.

Sherlock sips his tea. "Why not? What do we say about men who wear tutus, Olive? Or women who become pirates for that matter."

"Gender is a construct," she stated, primly setting a teacup in front of a .... dalek?

John set his hands on his hips, smiling at the pair. "Empowered, isn't she?"

"Delightfully so," Sherlock grins. "I love being a parent. Molding young minds is fascinating, don't you think?"

"One way to look at it," John shakes his head. "Eve let me in. I got your text, said you had a case?"

"Ah yes," Sherlock set his tiny tea cup back on its saucer. "Probably no more than a six at best, but thought we could take a look. Stolen diamond, some Countess or whatever was in town for a few nights and it went missing from her hotel room. The Met arrested the handyman with past offences employed to fix the fireplace, but it wasn't him."

John frowned. "Right. Of course. How do you know?"

"Because my daddy is super clever!" Olivia exclaimed proudly, still busy with making sure each character at their makeshift picnic had the appropriate slice of wooden cake.

Sherlock beamed. "Yes I am. And the fact the diamond turned up inside a duck."

"A duck?"

"A dead and uncooked one, obviously."

John rolls his eyes. "Obviously."

"Someone planned on transporting it somewhere, just need to track down the chain of people it's been passed through," Sherlock turned to his daughter. "Sorry to cut our tea party short, Livi."

"It's okay," she opened her picnic box, pulling something out and handing it to him. "Here you go."

Sherlock looked between his magnifying glass and Olivia, taking it from her small hand with narrowed eyes. "Why did you have this?"

"Looked for spiders in the playground, Sam cried but not my fault, he shouldn't have asked to hold one."

"Olive." His tone was a warning.

"I needed it for my exparimints." She protests.

"Experiments. And what did you learn?"

Olivia makes a sour face. "Boys are silly."

"True," Sherlock said, the amusement and small amount of pride is ridiculously obvious on his face. John raises an eyebrow at him. Sherlock rolls his eyes, seeming to grasp what he's getting at. "But all the same," he amends. "Sam is your friend, you should be kind to your friends, I'm sure he only wanted to help."

Olivia frowned. "He did help. He didn't cry when I gave him a littler spider."

"That's..." Sherlock paused, searching for the correct word. "Good? Next time you want to borrow one of my tools, just ask, okay?"

"Okay. Can I try the blowtorch?"

Sherlock pressed his lips together, thinking. "Maybe. Only with my help, and only if your mother agrees."